Tonight the rain is pouring outside my window while I'm tucked safely inside my cozy, little basement apartment. Tonight that same rain seems to be reflecting the feelings of my heart. The last few days my heart has been constantly weeping for the loss of my mom. I get up, get the kids to school, run my errands and do my daily tasks, pick up my kids and I smile and play with them, I tuck them in bed and kiss their sweet cheeks trying to soak in every ounce of their goodness and in return give them all of the love I have, and then the tears my heart has been silently crying all day are finally free to slide down my cheeks. Tonight it is time to write again. Tonight I am going to take it back to the beginning....
There is one particular night in September that sticks out to me. Remember the lice my daughter had had the previous spring? Turns out she actually had SUPER lice! Apparently super lice cannot be killed with over-the-counter lice treatments. On this September evening I discovered that not only did she have it, but so did all of my boys! I was distraught. I could not do lice anymore. My mom and I took the boys out back and completely shaved off all their hair. We worked late into the night bagging up all of the pillows, washing the linens, vacuuming, and combing through hair. We decided we better check our own hair as well. My mom and I took turns combing through each other's hair using a fine tooth comb and a magnifying glass (keep in mind we both have very thick heads of hair). Any of you who have dealt with lice before will know what a painstakingly slow process it is to thoroughly check for lice. Seeing as it was now our third go around with lice in six months time (thank you super lice) my mom and I decided to also chemically treat our hair despite not seeing any sign of lice. We were determined to be done once and for all with all things lice! 2 a.m. rolls around and we are both sitting at the kitchen table with this gross chemical treatment in our hair. Out of nowhere I started to sob uncontrollably. Shocked my mom said, "Buggins, what's wrong?" (side note: we're a nickname family) I couldn't get the words to make sense I was crying so hard. I was trying to say, "I'm so tired of hard." It sounded so ridiculous and I felt like a child crying like that that I then began to laugh but I was also still crying. I was legitimately hard core crying and full on laughing at the same time. I have never experienced anything like it prior to that experience or in the days following. I felt like a full on lunatic. "I think you're having a nervous breakdown" was my mom's response through her own laughter. At two in the morning we were sitting at the kitchen table with gunk in our hair, simultaneously laughing and crying like babies who can't decide if they should laugh or cry, except that we were full grown adults. That is one thing I loved best about my mom, she was always a person I didn't have to be anything but me with. I could act like a crazy woman having a premature midlife crisis at 28 and she didn't care. She unconditionally embraced my crazy and always brought hers to the party. Somehow that terrible night has become a treasured and cherished memory. A memory of acceptance and love from a mother to a daughter. There are times I'd give anything to be back in that hard, uncomfortable, kitchen chair with smelly chemicals in my hair.
The beginning of October I started taking a CNA course. Classes were from 9-2, Monday-Friday all month long. During this time my oldest two kids were in school but my youngest two were not. My mom had agreed to watch my little ones for the month. That month was a priceless treasure for my then four year old. He got so much more attention from grandma that he didn't normally get when the bigger kids were around. They spent many of those beautiful fall days going for walks. The baby has more energy than most people know what to do with and as the month of October progressed, my mom began to experience extreme fatigue. A lingering cough she had had since the spring began to worsen. When she was tired of chasing my youngest around she would buckle him in the stroller where he would be confined and my four year old would walk along beside her. Despite her exhaustion it was usually easier for her to manage a walk than chase the two year old around at home. She never let me know just how bad she was feeling but despite her best efforts to hide it I knew something was wrong. I felt guilty leaving her with my kids but she insisted and at that point there was only a couple more weeks left, therefore, daily walks with my boys became the norm.
It was on these walks that my four year old formed a bond with her that is quite remarkable. Because of all of the changes from the divorce and the high demands placed on me, he was struggling a bit to be seen. The two of them would walk and talk. She would point out things about nature to him and before long he suggested they start saying prayers on their walks. This tickled her. He would say, "Grandma, Grandma stop we need to say another prayer". She would patiently stop and listen to him pray for his sister and then they'd walk a little further before he would ask her to stop again to pray for someone else. This went on and on the whole walk until he had stopped and said a prayer for every member of our family. My mom cherished these walks and I believe they were a small step in preparing her for what was to come. I know they were a huge step in healing my little boy's heart.
One day I came home a bit early and discovered the house empty and the stroller gone. Knowing they must be on one of their walks I walked out front to wait for them. Sure enough there they were walking towards me on the other side of the street. My mom was pushing the baby, my four year old was walking eagerly beside her, and they were looking at each other discussing something with smiles on their faces. The sun shone perfectly behind them so that their silhouette's were crisply outlined against the sky. A gentle breeze scattered leaves along the road and ruffled my hair when I distinctly heard, "remember this moment" whispered in my mind. Time stood still for just a fleeting moment. I willed myself to soak it all in, to memorize the way they looked, the way I felt, the sound of their distant laughter, every single bit of it I tried to commit to memory. Tears sprang to my eyes and in that moment I knew....
That was the last walk she ever took with my boys. From that day on, deep in my soul I knew that the "lingering cough" would eventually take her life. The next time I came home from school she showed me her pillowcase. It was speckled with blood from coughing in the night. That was the beginning of the end of her mortal life.
Not a day goes by that I don't miss her presence.
Even though I love the changing leaves and crisp air, this fall has been painful for me because this year the changing leaves and crisp air acts like a trigger on a gun where the ammo is a bunch of bittersweet memories. Memories that I know I have to share, I have to let out somehow because if I keep them in I'll drown in them. Some of them are too painful to keep locked away, stuffed inside. Some of them are too beautiful to keep to myself. Grief is funny like that; pain and beauty intertwine until sometimes you don't know where the beauty stops and the pain begins. So like the trees in autumn I'm shedding my memories like falling leaves. Some of the leaves are ugly, dead, and brown, rotting on the ground. However, most of the leaves from my tree are vibrant oranges, reds, and golds; you see most of my memories are more beautiful than painful. To know my mom, to care for my mom, to love my mom and be loved by her in return, that is more beautiful than any autumn leaf! How fortunate that life is eternal and that like the tree that loses it's leaves every fall, new memories will come forth like fresh leaves growing in the spring!
Treating her hair for lice. lol
